New Places, New Faces, More Walkers
by MikQueen
Summary: Clementine has lost everyone she started the apocalypse with. Her friends and family are all gone. She, for the first time, is alone. But when she meets a group of strangers she gets rather close with them, some more than others. For a long time, Clementine thought that things like love and trust were extinct. Will these new people show her that they're not? !OlderClemxLuke!
1. What I've Done

The sky. Today, it's a dingy shade of blue. The clouds within it are an even darker shade of grey. Above the tips of the pine trees, a small flock of squawking ravens fly high.

Sometimes I wish I could go up there with them, beyond the clouds. It's a place of wonder. A place of safety. A place where anxiety doesn't exist, and you don't fear for your life every second of the day.

It's a place where my parents are. Where Lee is.

As I stare into the dreary sky, I think of the people we've lost along the way. Doug and Carley. Mark. Larry and Lilly (God knows where she is). Katjaa, Duck, and Kenny. Chuck. Ben.

Lee.

Man, I miss him. He was my dad when I didn't have one. I always wanted my parents to meet Lee.

I fight tears and try to think of the good things. They would want me too. I think of my parents smiling faces, Lee teaching me to shoot.

"What do you think?" Omid says breaking me out of my reverie.

I look down from the sky and continue to wait like Omid and Christa had previously told me to.

"Omid, you can't be serious," Christa says, admonishingly to Omid who has his rifle pointed at a pit stop. Christa is crouched next to him, her large stomach scrunched between her chest and thighs. "I am," Omid replies, glancing at his wife.

The trashy brick building seems safe enough to use. Christa, probably thinking the same thing stands up from behind the log she and Omid were hiding behind.

"We are _not_ doing that." Christa says firmly. She starts to walk toward the building we'd been scoping and Omid and I follow.

"Why not?" he asks.

"Because!"

"Come on, Christa," Omid starts when he catches up to her, "What's wrong with 'Omid'?"

"We are not calling our baby 'Omid'," she answers. "One of you is enough."

"Clementine," Christa summons me, "A little help here?"

While I'm thinking Omid starts dishing out more baby name suggestions like "Omid II" and "Omid, Jr.", each being strongly rejected by Christa.

I'm really happy that Omid and Christa are gonna have a baby. Before the walkers came, I had always wanted a sibling; a baby brother or sister. Mostly a sister, though.

This thought leads me to asking Omid, "What if it's a girl?" Omid responds quickly with a grin.

"Then we name her Christa."

Christa rolls her eyes."But I'm Christa," she reasons, aggravation seeping through her words. "I don't want to call her Christa. That's just confusing."

"So name her Genevive. I don't care!" Omid jokes.

I stop as we reach the building, giving another once over and making sure it's safe. It seems like a good spot to rest for a minute and get cleaned up. Man, I can feel the dirt building up on my face. There must be a lot of pimples on my face, considering I am a fourteen year-old girl and I haven't washed in days.

"How can you not care!?" Christa asks.

Omid should know better than to mess with a pregnant lady. Before all this, my mom told me that when women are pregnant they get cranky and are irritable.

When we finally reach the station Christa turns to face Omid, putting a hand on her hip.

"You're not taking this seriously," Christa scolds, frowning.

I glance at the side of the building and notice a can lying on the ground. I inwardly want it to be unopened because I am starving and I'm sure Omid and Christa are too, but I don't want to get my hopes up.

"I take everything seriously," Omid says, not sounding serious at all, "Especially little Omid's future," he finishes with a smile, pointing at Christa's extremely large stomach.

Christa starts to say something, but I'm not really listening anymore. I walk over to the side of the building to pick up inspect the can but, to my expectations it's been long empty.

I scrunch my nose in disappointment and drop it to the ground. When I've walk back over, Christa nods at Omid and heads to the men's room. Omid, remembering I'm around, awkwardly turns to face me.

"Why don't you, err, get cleaned up in the girls room, Clem?" I know what this means but I choose not to think about it.

"I hope the sink works in there," I think aloud.

"I wouldn't count on it," Omid shrugs, bringing my thoughts back to reality. "Just be careful and make sure to keep track of your things," he warns. "We'll be right next door."

"Okay," I nod and we part.

I open the girls' bathroom door and the stench of feces and walker immediately wafts into my nostrils, making me gag.

"Hello…?" I call, gun raised, making sure no one is in here.

The room is a mess, but it's better than many of the others we've visited. The tiles are covered in dirt and there are splatters of blood here and there, as are the stalls. There are papers, cans, and bottles strewn all over the floor, like the room was just one large recycle bin.

On the stalls, are many words scribbled in permanent marker. I notice one with a drawing of a shark. _Must have been made before the walkers came._

The sinks and mirrors look fairly clean. I check each of the stalls in the restroom, the first two unfit for use. The last one was good enough, though it wasn't ideal.

"Good no one's here. Guess it's safe to get cleaned up."

I head to the sinks and check myself out in the mirror. Luckily, my acne count is low, but my face is still really dirty.

I toss my gun and purple backpack up on the counter, open it, and take out a rag and bottle of water I've saved up. Agreeing with Omid's words, I don't try the sink for water, and instead I wet the rage with the water and rid my face of the grime that I caked on it.

When I'm done I look at reflection in the mirror one more time. "Better," I approve with a small smile.

I reach for my bottle so I can put it back in my bag but accidentally, knock it over, startling myself in the process. I watch as it rolls under the stalls. "Oh, shoot." _Well, at least I had the cap on._

I check the stall with the good toilet and find it there. I examine the dirt that got on the bottle when it was rolling. "Ew," I comment, when I hear the bathroom door open.

Not knowing who it is, I carefully shut the stall door and stand on the toilet seat.

Through the crack of the stall I see the person. A black girl not much older than me.

I also notice that I left all of my things on the counter as well as my gun! _Shit! Shit! Shit!_

The girl starts looking through my things, probably searching for resources that I don't have. She picks up my gun weighing it in her hand.

As I try not to freak out, the toilet seat beneath me starts to waver as my weight shifts from side to side due to my trembling. I gasp as the toilet seat betrays me and makes a loud noise. _Please don't' see me. Please don't' see me. Please don't' see me._

Unfortunately, the teen spots me through the crack and raises the gun towards me, taking the safety off.

"I see you," she says, nonchalantly. I try to stay quiet, to see if she'll go away, but no such luck.

"Get out of there. You're not foolin' me."

"That's my gun," I let her know, still not exiting the stall.

"'S mine now," she responds.

"Give it back," I command, like a small child who just got her favorite toy taken away from her older sibling.

"Why should I?"

She opens the stall door, never pointing the barrel gun anywhere but my direction.

"Get out here," I am ordered.

Wishing Lee was here, I reluctantly hop off the toilet. I try my best not to cry, not to show weakness, but a tear escapes from the corner of my eye.

She starts rummaging through my bag. "You got anything on you?" In my bag are my pictures, a few writing utensils, and my lighter. "Come on, let's see," she says prodding me to give up the nonexistent food located in my pack.

"No, that's all I have." She looks up at me, surprised.

"That's it? How'd you make it this far?" _Hey, I may be small but I'm a lot tougher than you'd think._ But apparently she doesn't believe the truth.

"I'm serious what else you got?!" she says, loudly.

"That's it…"

"Don' lie to me. I'll pop you," she threatens. "Give me what you got." _I told her I don't have anything! Why won't she just leave me alone?_

"Please, stop…" I beg. She seems to have a brief change of heart but quickly shakes it off. Her eyes flick to my Danville Braves baseball cap.

"Give me that hat," she barks, imperatively.

 _Okay, this bitch just crossed the line. I'd rather die than give someone my hat._

"No." I retort.

"Where'd you get?"

 _Why do you care?_ "My dad gave it to me." She pauses before responding.

"Just give it to me."

I'm not going to give it to her so I don't even respond.

She seems to get the message and lets go. She pokes around through my stuff once more.

"Junk. Junk. Junk," she complains, "Look at all this junk."

As she continues to complain about my lack of supplies, Omid appears from behind the stalls. As soon as we make eye contact, he starts to move toward the girl slowly, so he can that her down inconspicuously.

"You ain't got nothin' good," she says, insultingly. "You're just a little fish."

She's not lying. I am small for my age. At fourteen I stand at 5'3. I look back at Omid who is carefully tiptoeing towards us. He is almost to her when I hear some even more insulting words from her.

"This your daddy?" she says, referring to the picture of Lee. "What a bozo."

Just before Omid can touch the girl's shoulder, the bathroom door, which had been slowly closing, loudly slams shut, causing both Omid and my oppressor to whip their heads.

*BANG!*

When Omid turns back to face us, he is coughing lightly and the expression on his face is blank when he looks at the young girl. Everyone looks down at Omid's chest as a big circle of blood emerges from the center.

 _Oh my, God…_ Tears start falling as Omid clutches his chest, taking his last breaths. I cringe as his eyelids close and he collapses onto the floor.

As I sob, I look at the girl who shot him. She looks horrified at what she's done.

Just then, Christa, poor Christa, pushes the door open forcefully, armed with a rifle and ready to fight, but when she sees Omid's dead body, her face falls and you can tell her world just came crashing down.

"I didn't mean to!" his killer says over and over. But Christa is ignoring her pleading and still looking down at Omid with tears rolling down her cheeks. She drops my gun from her hands to the tiled floor.

"I didn't mean t—"

*BANG!*

The girl, now shot in the stomach by Christa, slumps against the wall with a gasp and slowly starts to bleed to death, just like her victim.

Christa gets on the floor and cradles Omid in her lap, crying and hiccupping, trying to bring him back to life. As if he's just asleep like we was after we came back from scavenging Crawford.

But this time he doesn't wake up. No more jokes. No more witty remarks. Omid's gone. For real this time.

And when Christa looks from the recently shot pistol on the floor and up to look me in the eyes, I know what she is thinking and I agree with her. I start to whimper even more.

 _This is all my fault._


	2. Survive

I thought this would be over by now.

When this all started I was only twelve years old. And now I am a young adult at eighteen.

I thought the CDC or science genius would've come up with a cure or released a gas that would fix this. But I'm starting to think things will never go back to the way they were.

Especially not with the mentality people have now.

Survive.

That's all people do is survive. No matter the cost. There is no time for living anymore.

Humanity is rare these days, but I try to hold on to mine. Even if everyone else in this messed up world has lost theirs.

I stare at the weak fire in front of us. The flames refuse to go much higher than a few inches due to the light rain.

Above the fire, is a weasel-like creature staked on the make-shift rotisserie Christa made.

Christa and I haven't talked in a few days. She is really depressed. She's become a survivor.

When we could no longer support the baby because of the food shortage, we lost it. He was only five days old. Omid, Jr. was his name, ironically. Losing him not long after she lost Omid, did her in. She is no longer living.

"Christa," I begin, coming out of my stare and looking at the sad woman sitting next to me on this log. "Talk to me."

She doesn't respond immediately, but she shakes her head with a sigh.

She raises from her spot on the log with a stick in hand, "This'll never work," she says monotonously as she walks towards the fire. "Look at this…" she comments, poking at the flames. "It's pathetic. The wood's to wet to burn."

"At this rate, we'll be eating this for breakfast." My stomach growls. _Damn. I'm really hungry._

"It's okay," I try to stop her worrying, because she's had a lifetime of worrying already. "I can wait."

"All we do is wait," she complains, "And for what?" Another pause. "You should be doing this not me."

Christa is still poking the fire trying to get it higher, but she is having no luck. "Tending a fire so you can cook and stay warm; it's something you have to be able to do, Clementine. Otherwise…" she trails off, probably thinking about the baby.

I sigh. I never learned how to build or tend to a fire. Omid was going to teach me before his death, but I don't think that's a good subject to bring up.

"We can't build a big fire at night," I say reasonably, even though I'm starving and freezing. "It attracts too much attention. It's dangerous when we're out here by ourselves." She looks up at me like I'm stupid.

"We need to eat don't we? We can't survive without food."

She's right, we've barely eaten in the past three days. I'm sure my abdomen makes it seem like I have anorexia.

A strong gust of wind whooshes past our site, making me shiver. _I'm freezing._ I rub my arms to generate heat. "You think this is bad?" Christa asks. _Had I said that out loud?_ "Wait 'til we get up to Wellington, then talk to me about cold."

" _If_ we make it," I hear her murmur.

I don't know much about Wellington, but Christa made it our destination around last year. She doesn't talk much anymore, so I don't often question her about it.

"We still have a couple of hard months ahead of us," she continues, "Debbie-downing".

"This rain will turn to sleet, then ice, then snow. It won't be easy."

"Is it safe there?" I ask, despite the fact that nothing is safe anymore.

"Safer than here because of the cold. Or so they say. We just need to keep moving north."

I'm tired of talking about survival. In this moment, where it feels like we're almost at rock bottom, I often only think this single thought.

"I miss Lee."

Christa looks up at me again, but this time, her face softens.

"I'm sure you do." She sighs heavily, and finally gets up from the fire.

"I'm gonna go look for more wood," she says walking into the woods. "You just keep the fire lit."

And with that, she disappears behind the trees.

I look at the fire as its light gets lower and lower. _I'd better move before it burns out._

I get up and walk over to my backpack, which is tucked safely into a hollow end of a log. I bend down and start taking out its contents one by one, in search of my lighter.

First, I pull out the ripped picture of Lee from his family's drugstore I picked it up when we left the office. I'm glad I did. Fighting tears, I sigh and put it in my back pocket.

Next I pull out an old drawing of Katjaa, Duck, and Kenny. I miss them all, especially Duck. He may have been really annoying sometimes, but he was a good friend. I put that one in my pocket as well.

Finally, I find my silver lighter and stick it into another pocket. I put my bag back in its place and head over to the fire.

The fire is pretty much extinguished by the time I get over there, so I quickly take the lighter and a receipt out of my pocket. I flick the lighter and set the scrap of paper on fire. I place the burning paper into the middle of the pile of sticks. It starts to glow a bright orange.

"Better, but still not enough the flames are too low." The fire needs some more fuel. I look around for something that would help, and end up opting for a piece of fire wood. "This might burn."

I pick up the log and feed it to the fire. I poke around again and the fire gets even bigger. Not too big though. _This is easier than I thought._

Out of nowhere, I start to hear voices in the woods.

They are yelling words that I can't make out. My heart starts to race as I get up to investigate. I walk carefully and quietly into the woods in the direction Christa went to ensure her safety.

As I walk the voices get clearer and clearer. I hear them asking questions about the location of someone's group. _Christa, please be okay…_

"Don't fucking lie to us!" one growls.

"Who do you think you're foolin'?" asks another.

My breaths quicken as I see Christa being held up by a group of men. _Fuck!_

"Give us the truth and you don't get hurt."

"You fuckin' with me?"

I get closer to the commotion. There are three men, two of which armed with pistols.

"Where's the rest of your group?" A black man with a hoodie asks.

"I-I'm by myself," Christa lies, hands up.

"Bullshit!" another man with short dreads yells.

"She's lyin'," the last man, who has short brown beard and holds a spear says.

"Cut the shit, lady!" The guy with the hoodie points his gun at Christa, her face etched with alarm.

"It's-It's just me," she stutters.

 _They're going to kill her!_ I look around for a distraction as another one of the men points his gun at her.

I grab a rock from the ground and throw it. It hits one of them in the face.

"CHRISTA, RUN!" I scream and she follows my instructions.

I turn and run myself as the man who I hit starts to chase me. I'm running as fast as my legs would take me, when I hear a gunshot and a moan of distress. My eyes widen, but I quickly shake the assumption that she is dead.

I don't stop running until I think I'm safe. But, the man is still chasing me.

"Get the fuck over here! NOW!" he snarls.

I quickly jump behind a tree, so that he is unable to see my silhouette. He, frustrated that he can't find me, murmurs, "Motherfucker," and starts to look in the other direction for me.

"Come out here girl. I'm not fucking around."

I take this as my opportunity to run. But he hears my hard footsteps and immediately starts after me again.

I sprint until I approach a fallen log. The guy thinks he has me and lunges my way as I slide under the large log. I quickly recover myself, jumping to my feet and start running once again.

"Shit!" he yells, "Get the fuck over here!"

I keep running until I see a walker, whom I quickly dodge. I stop and turn around when I reach a large fallen tree trunk that has formed a blockade.

In front of me the man starts taking down the walker that I just got away from, inadvertently giving me a small window of time to come up with an escape plan. _What do I do?! What do I do?!_

I rack my brain frantically for my next move. He's almost killed the walker. My eyes land on a branch from the tree trunk. _Aha!_ I yank it off of the tree and hold it, defensively.

The man, having taken care of the walker rears up, like a bull, thinking he has me trapped once again. He tries to pounce on me, but unfortunately for him, I evade his attack and he almost stakes himself on the tree.

"Woah…!" He says, stopping unsteadily. While he is fazed, I use this time to get ready for my own attack.

As soon as he turns around, I jam the branch straight into his left shoulder.

He howls in pain, "Jesus, are you fucking kidding me?!" I turn on my heel and run away.

I have no idea where I'm going, as I look around in panic, but I slide as I almost run straight off of a cliff and into the rushing river below.

The man, who has seemingly removed the branch from his shoulder, having found me picks me up and presses my back against his chest. He wraps one arm tight around my shoulder and the other tight around my abdomen.

I struggle to get out of his grasp, but his arms won't budge.

"Quit squirming, baby" the man says, moving his mouth close to my ear and biting it hard. I wince in pain. The hand that is placed on my stomach suddenly stars to roam up my shirt and he starts sucking my neck and my collar bone.

 _Oh, hell no. This is not happening._

Just as he is about to "cop a feel" of my chest, I chomp down hard on his other hand before he can reach it.

Blood squirts from his thumb and I can taste the metallic flavor of the dark red liquid. I ignore the gross feeling of his filthy hand in my mouth and continuing biting as hard as I can. "Aaaah!" he cries in pain as he tries to hold on to me "Ow, let go you little bitch, Jesus Christ!"

 _Don't stop biting. Don't let this bastard go free._

I continue biting until I feel both rows of my teeth touch and his thumb in my mouth. _Gross._

I spit his severed thumb and blood onto the ground and he drops me, swearing and holding his newly four-fingered hand with his other.

I spot a hollow log and run to it. _Thank God, I'm so small._ I crawl into the hole, but the man grabs my foot.

 _Will this asshole, just quit? He's already lost a finger!_ I keep kicking his hands as hard as I can but despite my efforts, he's able to drag me out.

He drags me on the ground by my foot until I grab onto a nearby tree.

"You've got to be kidding me!" he says exasperated. I hold onto the tree for as long as I can but one good pull from him gets me off.

He then pins me on the ground using his full-fingered hand to hold my wrists down above my head With his other hand, he tries to put his hand down my pants, but I am able to get one of my arms free from his grasp. I stop him by trying to punch him in his jaw. My fist doesn't connect, though. He grabs my wrist before it does.

Just then, a walker comes to my rescue, sort of.

He is behind a rock reaching for the guy on top of me. I turn my body toward the direction of the walker, bringing the asshole with me. With a swift kick to his chest, he is off of me and put into the hands of the walker.

I crawl backwards, away from them, breathing heavy and sweating hard. I get up from the dirt ground, leaving the pervert to fight the walker himself, but before I can run away, another walker grabs my arm from between two trees. _Oh, give me a break!_

I pull my arm away forcefully as it tries to bite me, until its shoulder gives, snapping off its arm.

I fall back right in front of the man and into the path of another walker. Before either one can get me, I jump up and out of both of their reaches.

Instead of feasting on me, the walker seizes the man and successfully rips his throat out with its rotted teeth. The man's screams of agony eventually die out and I try to find my way back to the campsite.

But I am unable to escape due to the outnumbering amount of walkers coming from that direction so they can feast on my flesh.

I retreat back toward the rapist-eating walker, but trip over a rock and fall the ground. I back up as the walkers press on toward me.

I pick up a rock and throw it at a random walker in panicked defense, but it doesn't stop them. This is it it's over. My breaths get even quicker than they were before.

Panicked, I continue crawling backward until the ground disappears beneath me.

I scream until I emerge into the cold rushing river. I plunge deep into it, trying to hold my breath as black spots start to blur my vision. I move my arms quickly to get to the surface.

I pop out of the water gasping for air and sputtering water as the river carries me into a deep state of oblivion and nothingness.


	3. Start Over

My clothes are wet. I'm hungry. It's cold. All these thoughts I feel when my eyes flash open.

Now awake I start coughing and sputtering out the water from the river I'd been floating in. With a final hack, I rise up from the ground and pull my legs out of the shoreline water.

When I finally stand up, I grip my stomach hard and moan. _God, I'm starving. I need to find something to eat, soon._

A gust of wind blows by making my teeth chatter for a second. _I wish my clothes weren't so wet; I wouldn't be as cold._ I rub my arms to generate heat and warm myself up.

 _Wait, where's Christa?_ "Hello!?" I call out, my voice echoing through the air, hoping that I get a response back. No such luck. _Damn it! How'd everything get so screwed?_

My empty stomach cries out once more and I decide that I need to find some food. I start to shuffle along the riverbank. As I walk, I pass a small boat built for a child half sunk in the river. I sigh at the horrid thought of the unfortunate children who either drowned or were devoured by walkers.

Finally I arrive at a wooden deck. The stairs that lead to the top of it have been destroyed. _I wonder how that happened._ Fortunately for me, the deck is just low enough for me to jump and climb up.

After one failed attempt, I jump and I manage to grab onto the deck above and quickly scramble up and onto my feet. After climbing the second flight of stairs, I just start walking aimlessly through the woods at the top of the cliff, looking for food and/or possible shelter.

Luckily, there's a path so at least I can remember where I came from in case I need to get back to the opening just before the woods. As I meander, I can't help but get creeped out by these woods. I come up to a fallen tree and wing myself over it.

The trees around me keep rustling because of the wind and I can't help but feel like it's a walker. Suddenly a flock of black birds come flying out a bush scaring me shitless. _Stupid birds._

I continue walking hesitantly in fear of something else popping out. Once again, I hear a rustle in the bushes, but this time it's not birds. I approach the rustling creature and once it's in view I realize it's a dog.

My mouth drops open. _A dog!_ I am unable to recall the last time I'd seen a living, breathing dog. The only other dog I've seen since everything started was the decomposed dog at the house in Savannah where we stayed briefly just before I ran away.

The dog has light brown fur but it's darkened by all the dirt that has accumulated onto it. It's so thin and scrawny that it nearly looks like a skeleton with fur. I guess that he hasn't eaten in awhile; he probably doesn't have any owners to feed him.

The mutt finally notices my presence and starts to growl lightly at me. I'm not too frightened by his growling because he is probably scared himself. "It's okay boy. It's okay…" I say softly, trying to soothe him.

Once he stops growling, I speak to him, although I doubt he understands me. "So, where are your owners? Are they around here somewhere?" I honestly hope they're not. I don't need the trouble of crazy strangers added to my "burden list". I look around to make sure this isn't some kind of trap. If it is, I don't see anything or anyone.

The dog begins to walk away from me, but after a few seconds he stops. I scrunch my nose, confused. "What's he doing?" I ask myself aloud. The dog turns his head and looks at me, almost like he's beckoning me to follow him. When I do follow him, the dog starts to bark loudly. He must have been finding a scent. He runs away quickly and I follow. "Hey, what'd you find boy?" The dog continues running. "Where are you going? Wait up!" I jog lightly behind him to keep up.

Eventually the dog slows down and stops running and his loud barking ceases. I crouch next to him and see what he's led me to. It's a camp, not one of those survivor camps, but more like the camps that were around before walkers came. From what I can tell no one is there anymore.

I get up from my spot so I can check out the place. "Hello…?" I call out making sure this camp doesn't belong to anyone. I scope out the place, trying to see any visible salvageable items, but no cigar. "Looks pretty run over, but you never know," I say to myself.

Everything in the camp is busted. There's a van that has had parts taken from it and there are boxes scattered everywhere. This can only mean one thing. Scavengers have been here. _If there is food, there's probably not going to be much of it. I better not get my hopes up._

My stomach starts to growl again. I wince at my pain. "Come on, boy. Let's look for some food."

I wander over to the barbeque to see if there's anything in there, even though there probably isn't. My expectations were met when I saw that there was a large hole formed in the bottom. "Nothing left here," I sigh.

There are so many empty cans on the ground. I'm so jealous of whoever ate the food that was in them. Next to a can I find a Frisbee on the ground.

I look at the dog. "Hey, wanna play?" I ask, waving the Frisbee. He barks happily as we play a little game of fetch. "I bet you missed this. I sure do," I say to the dog sadly. Eventually we stop to continue to look for more food.

I look in a box in the van. There is a picture of the dog with his owners. "Looks like they were a happy family once."

Finally, I come to a trash can. It is filled to the rim and it smells so bad that a large amount of flies have gathered around it. _God, I hate bugs._ I close my eyes and scrunch my nose. I exhale. "Gotta check everywhere."

I look at the trash can in a "Do I _have_ to?" kind of way, before I decide I _do_ have to. "Well… here we go." I hold my breath and roll up my sleeves revealing my light caramel-colored arms. I stick my hands in trash can and rummage through it to see if I can find anything while trying not to barf on my arms. _This is_ _ **so**_ _gross!_ My hand finally reaches a can that feels heavy. So I grab onto it and pull it out.

It's a pretty big can of beans. I must be dreaming so I pinch myself. But I am still awake! "Oh, my God… thank you!"

Hearing the commotion, the dog comes over to me. "Look," I say excitedly, holding the can up like they used to do in the commercials. "A can!" He barks, excited too. "Now I just need something to open it with."

I look around for second before the dog starts barking. He runs over to a tree and just stands there barking and growling at the tree. "Hey boy? What's the matter?" But he keeps on barking. I look around just in case someone or something heard him. I shush him. "We have to be quiet," I whisper. He stops barking and I walk over to see what his deal is.

When I see what he sees I know why he's all riled up. One of his owners (now a walker) is tied up to the tree with a yellow rope. Sticking out of his right shoulder is a red-handled pocketknife. "It's okay. He's dead." I squat down to examine the walker. "Look" I say to the mutt. "You can see the bite. It looks like he tried to cut it out. But that never works. Ever."

The walker starts trying to grab me once I stand in front of him, hissing and growling. This alarms the dog, who instinctively starts barking. "It's okay, we're smart and he's not," I say to put him at ease. "We're smarter than all of them."

I realize that I really need that blade and I don't want to get bitten and end up like this guy, so I pick up a large branch off the ground. It's kind of heavy so it throws me off for a second. Once I regain my balance, I tell the dog to stand back.

I whack the walker, like my dad used to whack target with the mallet when we went to the fair. For a second I thought I got the walker; he didn't move. But, unfortunately he lifted his head up. So I just keep bashing his head in until his skull splits open.

"See, we just have to stay out of their reach," I inform the mutt, breathing tiredly. I yank the pocketknife out of the walker's shoulder, but not before checking his pockets for supplies. But they were empty. I wipe the blood from the knife using my pants. On the last wipe I accidentally slice a hole in my pants. "Oh, still pretty sharp."

With the can and the knife in hand I walk over to the log and sit down. Sam sits in front of me. I look at the can and hope that the food in it isn't spoiled. I stab the can like there's no tomorrow. Well I guess that's possible. Once I've cut enough I force the aluminum away with my new knife. I look at the beans relieved that they are still good, "Thank God…"

I immediately start to dig in and devour as many beans as I can. I already feel stronger, like I just ate a can of Popeye's spinach. As I go for another bite I notice the dog begging for some food. I guess I can spare a bite. I smile.

"I guess you pretty hungry, too," I say. The dog barks happily in agreement. I hold out my hand with the handful of beans I was just about to eat. "Here you go." But he doesn't take it. Instead he knocks the can out of my hand and starts scarfing the beans inside it down. "Hey, don't eat it all," I say to him taking the can from him.

The next thing I know his jaw is around my arm and his sharp teeth are penetrating my skin.


	4. I Need A Hero

I scream in pain while trying to get the traitorous dog off of me.

I punch him in the jaw, delivering blow after blow but he doesn't budge. I finally grab the knife, which is sticking out of the ground next to me. I stab the dog in the jaw and he finally lets go, but he does not let up. He rears up and tries to pounce on me, but before he lands on me, I kick him in the gut sending him flying over the log I had been sitting on.

I crawl backwards and hold my knife up defensively. All of a sudden I hear the dog making noise. He's…whimpering? _Why should I care if he's hurt? He just tried to kill me!_ Holding my bitten arm, I get up fueled with animosity and walk over to the dog, but when I see him, I feel nothing but guilt.

The dog is whimpering in pain due to pierced by two tent stakes through the chest and thigh. He's trying to run but he is unable to move.

I get down on my knees and close my eyes, saying a silent prayer for him. I get out my pocketknife, but before I put him down I catch a glimpse of his collar. Sam. A tear runs down my cheek, as I look at the dog. I pet his head, "I'm sorry, Sam," my voice breaking.

With one hand still petting his head I use the other one to stab him in the throat. Sam gives out a final cry before closing his eyes.

After that I get up, cradling my arm. As I touch it, I wince at the stinging pain. As I look at it I take note that my arm is dripping red liquid. I look at my hand. It is stained with shiny crimson blood. I wipe it off on my jeans and pull my sleeve over the wound.

Alone once again, I walk away from the scene without looking back and walk aimlessly through the woods.

As I walk I can feel myself getting weaker. My normal walking has gradually changed to the sluggish dragging of my feet. The blood from my wound begins to seep through my sleeve, soaking it with red. It hurts so bad. _If I can't clean this up soon, I'm going to die._

Tears start to fall from my eyes. I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I'm alone. I just need something…someone to help me. Please…

I keep shuffling along until I come across a large boulder. I sit on the ground leaning against it, still holding my arm with pressure, despite the pain. I lean my head back and close my eyes, salty tears running down my cheeks. I'm so exhausted, I can barely move. Maybe I can take a light nap…

But a garbled voice that I know all too well interrupted me before I can rest. I open my eyes, and in the corner of my blurred vision I see a walker limping over to devour me. And then I see another. And another. _Oh, give me a fucking break._

So I pull myself up from the ground and try to run, but I can only manage a slow drag because I'm so

tired.

I try to get away but I can feel them gaining on me. I'm going to pass out any minute and when that happens, I'm a goner. One of them reaches me and tackles me to the ground.

It tries to pin me, but I am able to push on its chest before it can. It snaps its jaws trying to sink its rotten teeth into my skin. _I can't hold him up for much longer._ I realize that this is probably the end for me, so I choose to let go to let the walker feast on my body.

Right before it bites into me, a shiny silver blade slices its head clean off. _What?_

When I squint up to see what happened, I see a handsome younger man removing the decapitated corpse from me. Just then another walker comes up behind my savior. Just as I am about to warn him, an arrow penetrates the walker's skull. I look over and see a middle-aged man holding a crossbow, shooting another walker.

"I'm out!" calls the older man to the younger with the machete," Grab her and let's go!"

"Come on, little lady," the young man says, his southern accent thick. "We gotta get." He scoops me up bridal style and holds me close. With me secured in his arms, he breaks out in a sprint, followed by the older man.

Once we are out of harm's way, the two men slow down to take a breather.

"I think," the bald, older man starts, panting heavily. "I think we're safe." He and the younger man look back to make sure that there are no more walkers hidden behind trees and bushes.

"Yeah, we're good," the other man replies, confirming the previous statement made by his companion.

I'm so tired, that I don't even notice the man holding me trying to get my attention.

"Hey, you alright?" he asks me, kind of shaking me to make sure I'm still conscious.

I shrug, unsure how to answer. I dog bit me which is bad, but the walkers didn't get me which is good. I'm very weak, but I _am_ still alive so…"I think so," I answer sincerely. Not answering me, they continue walking on the trail ahead.

After a moment of awkward silence the bald man speaks, "What are you doing out here?"

"Where are the, err, the people you're with?" the one carrying me asks. "There's no chance you made it this long on your own."

I should feel insulted, but I'm too drained to care. "My friend and I got attacked," I answer truthfully.

"Hmm…" the other man nods. "These folks mention what they were after?"

"They might've just wanted food. We were cooking some sort of weasel."

"They attacked you for a weasel?" the handsome man asks. "Damn. That is _low_." He sneaks a quick glance at his friend and continues on. "They didn't mention any names, right? They weren't searching for anybody?" I ignore him and tiredly lean my head on his chest. He doesn't seem to mind. His chest is hard because of his muscles, but his body heat feels good because I'm freezing.

"Well," he says after I don't respond. "I'm Luke and this is Pete."

"Hey there," Pete says smiling at me.

"Hi. I'm Clementine," I say, smiling weakly back at Pete and Luke.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Clementine", Luke says warmly, his kind chocolate eyes staring directly into my hazel ones. "For now, we're gonna take you back to our group. We got a doctor with us and you look like you could use some-OH SHIT!" Luke yells in disgust as he drops me directly on my arm. _What the hell?!_

The pain from the dog bite shoots straight up my arm like I've just been electrocuted. I grab my arm, but as soon as I touch it, it starts to sting, causing me to moan in pain. I glower at Luke. "What the hell was that for, asshole?" I ask Luke, angrily.

"What the hell just happened, boy?" Pete asks.

Luke holds his head with his hands as his eyes widen with horror. "She-She's been bit, man!" _What?!_ Although I don't remember being bit, I examine my body for any bites, but then I remember. I look at my arm. _Oh shit._

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," Luke chants while pacing around me. He looks to Pete. "What are we gonna do here?"

Pete looks at me. He, unlike Luke, calmly looks over to me.

"No!" I say over Luke's panicking. "It was a dog!"

"I didn't see any dog, Clementine," Pete replies looking around.

"Come on, girl. Look, we just saw you with those lurkers back there!" Luke says to me, still unsure if I'm lying.

"If I was lying, I would have asked you to put me out of my misery, or I would have taken _myself_ out!"

They don't respond, they just look at me skeptically.

I sigh. "Just look at it. Please?"

Luke snorts in disapproval. "Yeah, and have you sink your teeth into Pete's neck? No way."

"My neck? Why am I the one?" Pete asks .

"'Cause I don't know a dog bit from a mosquito bite from a lurker bite, man."

"It's not." I say firmly, trying to keep my cool. If I want to see that doctor of theirs, I need to stay on their good side.

Pete and I stare at each other in silence for a minute before he speaks. "Hmm… alright. Let's see it."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hey, watch yourself," Luke warns Pete.

He's really starting to get on my nerves. I turn my head and glare at him.

I can tell I intimidated him for a second, but he tries to put on a tough face. "Hey don't look at me like that! _You're_ the one that's bit here." Luke crosses his arms like a small child who just got scolded. I snicker, quietly at him.

Pete bends down on one knee and takes my dog-bitten arm. As he rolls up my sleeve so he can check the bite, my arm feels like it's catching on fire. I wince when he accidently touches my arm with his fingers.

I look up at Pete. "See?" The teeth marks indicate that the mouth is way too wide to have been a human.

"Is it, uh… is it like she says," Luke asks. He must feel pretty stupid.

"Hmm… well, could be a dog. Hard to say. It's a little wide to be a human bite,"

"Yeah, but any human could have had dental issues," Luke says. Although he's wrong, he's got a point. But he's still being a real dickhead.

I roll my eyes. "What the hell is your problem?" I say, fed up with Luke. "I know you just met me and I understand that I could be lying. But I'm NOT. I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I'm injured. So can you stop being a pain in my ass, Luke? I've got other shit to deal with."

Luke dumbfounded by my angry words, does not reply to anything I've said, but he looks like he's simmering down.

Pete clears his throat after the awkward silence. "So, uh, Clementine? Where'd this "dog" go?"

"I-I…" I stutter feeling ashamed of what I did to Sam. "I killed it."

"What? Really? A dog shows up and bites you and you just kill it?" Luke asks, his voice rising again.

"What would you have done?" Pete replies.

"I don't know!"

"It attacked me! I didn't want to, but had to. Any normal person would have done what I did." I explain, even though I shouldn't have to.

"Still! You don't…" Luke trails off. He visibly calms back down. "You don't kill dogs," he finishes.

Pete raises an eyebrow at Luke and turns back to me. "Clementine?"

"Yes…?"

"You tellin' us the truth?" He asks. "You look me in the eyes when you answer."

Following his instructions I look him dead in the eyes. "Yes," I answer confidently and sincerely.

"Hmm… All right, Clementine. That's good enough for me." Pete answers with a small smile that I return.

"Well, what else was she gonna say?" Luke appears to be unsatisfied with my answer.

Pete covers my arm with my sleeve once again. "I've got a good bullshit detector, Luke. That's why you can never beat me at poker." I giggle at this.

"Pfft. You don't always beat me at…" Luke stops himself, probably rethinking his answer. "All right how can you be sure?"

"Well, I'm sure I ain't willing to leave this young lady who is clearly in need of some medical assistance in the woods to die when we got a doctor with us that can make a call. We can have Carlos take a look at it first."

Carlos must be their doctor. I hope he has enough supplies to fix up my arm.

Luke sighs in defeat. "Nick ain't gonna like this. Not with what happened to-"

"You don't have to remind me of that, boy," Pete cuts him off.

"Right. Sorry, sir."

In response to Luke's earnest apology, Pete pats him on the shoulder.

"Come on," Pete says beckoning us to follow him.

When I stand up I feel as if the whole world is rotating. I'm feel so fatigued. I hold my arm and begin to follow the two men. As I walk, my footsteps start to slow. In the distance, I can see a cabin that I assume is theirs.

Luke and Pete turn around, seeming to notice my slow, unsteady steps.

"Clementine," Pete calls to me worriedly. "You feelin' all right."

My breathing starts to get heavier. "I'm fine…just…tired." I can feel my eyes drooping.

"Well you better be fine. 'Cause I ain't carryin' you anymore with that bit on your arm," Luke informs me insensitively.

My legs start to shake, growing weary of holding my body up. "Don't worry about…" before I can finish my sentence, my eyes roll back and my legs give out.

Luke's cursing is the last thing I hear before I black out.


	5. On Trial

The voices I hear when I wake up are incoherent. I can't make out what any of them are saying.

"Don't...that! Not…what happened."

"Would...the fuck is going on here?"

"Now…Rebecca."

"…don't worry."

Soon my eyes start to open, but my vision is blurred; the only people I can make out are Pete and a pregnant woman. The voices become clearer.

"Like hell you do," says the woman who looks like she is going to go into labor at any second; I'm guessing this is Rebecca. "Did anyone think to ask where she came from? For all we know she could be working for Carver!"

 _Who the hell is Carver?_

"She already told us that she and her friend were attacked," Pete replies, defending me. "Then she was bitten by a dog."

The angry woman rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. "And you just believed her? You should have put her out of her misery right there. Dog bite my ass…"

I slowly come to my senses and push myself of the ground. My arm is still hurting like hell. I remember Luke said something about a doctor being in their group. Maybe if I can get them to trust me (because they clearly don't trust me, with the exception of Pete), then maybe they will help me fix my arm.

I decide that now would be a good time to explain my situation. "I'm not wor─"

 _BLAM!_

I jump back, with a shriek of fear. I look at the man who just shot me with anger. He's a younger guy with messy raven colored hair and blue eyes that are looking at me with confusion and fear.

What the hell is wrong with him?!

Pete angrily snatches the gun from the young man. "Keep your finger off the trigger, boy!"

Suddenly, Luke bursts out of the cabin before me with a mixture of confused, angry, and surprised looks etched in his face. "Whoa! Whoa! What the fuck?!" he yells at the group of four standing over me.

"You idiot!" Rebecca berates the shooter. "Every lurker for five miles probably heard that!"

He looks at her with scorn. "You're the one tellin' me to fuckin' shoot her!"

"Everybody just calm down for a second!" a black man who has been silent until now interjects in this heated argument.

Luke runs up to me, worry replacing his previous emotions that were broadcasted on his face. "Clementine, are you okay?" he asks, gently grabbing my shoulder. I nod and give him a small smile in response. He doesn't remove his hand.

I stand and turn my head to the other four people. "I'm not… I'm not working for anyone. I don't know what you're talking about. I just need help."

"We got a doctor right here, okay," Luke responds to my plea. He seems to be on my side despite, earlier suspicions. "He'll have a look." Luke turns to his people angrily, his hand not moving from its spot on my shoulder. Not that I mind. His grip is strong and warm and surprisingly comforting. It makes me feel safe, despite the situation.

"Now what the hell is wrong with you people?!" he scolds the group as a man most likely of Spanish descent strides out of the cabin. "You're scarin' her!"

"We're all scared, Luke" the rude, expecting woman argues, getting in Luke's face. "Don't act like we're the ones being irrational because we don't buy this bullshit story."

The trigger-happy guy pipes up. "Look how small and frail she is. No way she's survived out here on her own! Why are we even arguing about this?"

I scoff and flip him off. He furrows his eyebrows at my offense.

"Let me take a look," the Spanish man says imperatively and holds out his hand. This must be Carlos. I am a little wary of taking his hand because right now half of these people are assholes who are ready to murder me. I don't want him to kill me just because he _thinks_ my dog bite is from a walker.

I look to Luke, certain that he wouldn't let anything bad happen to me. He smiles kindly at me. "It's okay," he soothes, "Go ahead he's a doctor."

I nod, putting my trust in Luke and roll up my blood-stained sleeve. I moan quietly in pain as I do so. _Man this hurts so much. I really hope the doctor fixes my arm soon._

"Damn," says the big-bellied black man when he sees my messed-up arm. "That must've hurt."

"It hurt like hell," I inform him. I hold my forearm up to Carlos so that he can have a better look at the bite. Carlos examines the bite on my arm quietly, so I have no idea what he's thinking.

I look up at Luke and he rubs my shoulder to reassure me. Luke really seems like a great guy, despite his reaction to my dog bite. His attitude about the situation has made a complete 180°. I wonder what changed since before when he dropped me on my ass.

After what seems like forever, Dr. Carlos speaks. "Hmm… Whatever it was, it got you good."

p class="MsoNormal""This isn't how we do things, man," Nick says chewing on his thumb nail. Anxiety is evident in his whole demeanor. "When you're bit, you get put down. End of story. I'm not going through this again." I glare at him. _Does this guy ever stop being an asshole?_

"No one's suggesting that, Nick." Luke assures him. _Huh, so the jerk has a name._

"We could take her arm off." I gasp loudly in horror. _What?!_

I look in the direction in which the voice came from. Pete! I thought he was on my side!

Everybody looks at Pete with shock, including myself.

"I know that worked for a cousin down in Ainsworth. We could try that."

"It won't do any good," says Rebecca. "You'll just be makin' it worse for the girl." _Well, nice to know she has a soul._

The group continues to argue amongst themselves about amputating _my_ arm. _They do know I'm standing right here, don't they?_

I turn to Luke in hopes that I can get him to defend me. So I muster up all the cuteness and sadness I can and give Luke my famous puppy dog eyes.

Luke looks down at me and smiles at my expression. He squeezes my shoulder and whispers in my ear. "You're cute and all, but I'm on your side. No need for a guilt trip." I cross my arms in defeat, but hey, at least a hot guy called me "cute."

The door to the cabin opens once again. Gosh, how many people are in this group? This time a girl around my age pokes her head through the slightly opened door.

She's a pretty girl with shoulder length black hair and red glasses. She should really cut her hair. The thought saddens me a little, remembering Lee's last piece of advice.

" _Keep that hair short._ "

"Who's she?" the girl asks once she makes eye contact with me.

Carlos' eyes widen in surprise as he turns around to face her. "Sarah? What'd I say? Stay inside."

Sarah, obviously hurt, goes back inside. Once the door clicks shut Carlos looks at my arm once again.

"I don't mean to be any trouble," I say honestly. "I just want to stop the bleeding and then I'll go. You'll never see me again. I promise."

Carlos doesn't exactly look convinced. "And where exactly would you go?"

"To find my friend Christa."

Nick rolls his eyes, "Forget it. A small little lady like you won't get five feet."

"Further than you'd make it," I mumble inaudibly.

"Look," Luke addresses his group. "I know I may be in the minority here, but my gut tells me she's telling the truth. It probably is just a dog bite. Probably."

"It _is_ ," I confirm.

Carlos looks me in the eye for a moment. Then he finally backs away from me and goes to consult his group.

"So what do you think?" the black man asks.

"Was it a lurker?" adds Nick.

"A bite like that..." _could only be a dog_. "Could be anything," Carlos finishes. _What?! What kind of doctor is he?!_ "There's only one way to find out."

"How," asks Pete.

Carlos turns to Pete. "We wait."

"What?!" Rebecca asks, mimicking my thoughts perfectly.

"By tomorrow morning, if the fever's set in, we'll know if she's gonna turn. In the meantime, we can lock her in the shed."

"What?!" I outburst in response. "How the hell can you expect me last until morning without my arm getting infected? My arm needs to get cleaned, and stitched, and bandaged…" I walk toward him, finally removing myself from Luke's grasp.

Luke follows up behind me. "The girl is in bad shape, Carlos."

"We have all that stuff in the cabin," says the large man with the glasses. _Oh thank goodness, someone else is on my side!_ "We could probably get by with─"

"ALVIN, please…" Rebecca yells, cutting him off.

"But yeah, we can't do nothin'." And just like that, Alvin is back to the dark side.

Carlos turns to me. "I'm not wasting supplies on a lurker bite. If it turns out you're telling the truth, I'll clean it and stitch up for you in the morning." Without another word, Carlos retreats to the cabin.

"But…" I try. But Carlos is done talking.

Luke walks up to me from behind and places a hand on my back. "I'm sorry. It's the best we're gonna get."

"Why can't you guys just help me and let me go?" I ask. _Are they really just going to leave me to die?_

"I wish we could, but it's too risky, sorry," Luke replies penitently.

Nick walks up to Pete to retrieve his gun. "Keep your finger off the trigger, son," Pete warns.

Nick angrily snatches the gun from Pete and gives him a defiant stare. "I ain't your son." _Grow up._

"Don't be like that, man," Luke calmly reprimands Nick. Nick visibly cools down at Luke's words. They must be really close for him to just calm down like that at Luke's command.

"It's all right," Pete says, forgivingly with a smile. "Boy's got his mom's temper."

"Nick, ignoring Pete, looks over his shoulder at me. "Come on," he commands, walking ahead so that I can follow him, which I do, hesitantly. Luke follows suit and walks next to me.

"It's just a waste of time you'll see," Rebecca says loud enough for me to hear. "And when she turns, I ain't gonna be the one cleaning up the shed." _What a bitch!_

Once we reach the shed Luke unlocks it and Nick shakes his rifle at me, basically telling me to get in or else.

"Hey, Nick, go on inside. I'll lock her up." Nick nods and heads into the cabin.

When Nick shuts the cabin door, Luke opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off before he can.

"Don't fucking talk to me," I snap coldly, looking at the ground. "Don't apologize, if you don't mean it."

"But I do mean it!"

"No you don't. If you did, I wouldn't be in here right now."

Luke doesn't respond, but he frowns and runs the back of his neck guiltily. He grabs the doors of the cabin and locks them from the outside. But I don't hear him walking away.

"Sorry," he mumbles almost inaudibly, as his feet shuffle their way back to the cabin.

I sit on the floor holding my knees to my chest.

 _I can't believe this._

I rock back and forth me boots hitting the wooden floor with every "forth". I try not to panic.

"You're gonna be fine, you're gonna be fine, you're gonna be fine," I whisper this to myself.

Just then, as if a rod of lighting struck my brain, I stop rocking and hop up.

Too many people lost their live trying to save me. I'll be damned if I just sit here and wait to die because of a stupid dog bite. I'll be damned if I let their sacrifices be in vain. And I will sure as hell be damned if I just let these assholes decide my fate.

I can't just wait around for another Lee, or another Christa and Omid to solve my problems anymore. I'm on my own now. I gotta take care of myself now. And right now I gotta fix myself up and get out of here _ASAP_.

I take a deep breath. "Alright," I say out loud after my mental speech. "Let's do this, Clem."


	6. DIY

Sorry for the super long wait! It's finally here!

Special thanks to TheAlphaOfDarkness. Your reviews litterally give me life!

* * *

Luke's POV

 _What is this world doing to me? I can't believe we just left this girl out here to die, and I'm not even trying to help._

I hear her whispering to herself, "You're gonna be fine, you're gonna be fine…" I hope she will be.

"Dude, you coming in or not?" Nick yells at me, exasperated from the front door and then heads into the cabin.

I glance back at the little wooden shed. _We should be fixing her up. We should be welcoming her. Or at least I should be helping her escape._ But instead I just jog back to the cabin. Once inside, I flop down on the couch next to Nick.

My face must be all screwed up because Nick asks me what my deal is. "I don't know, man. I just… I just feel like we should be helpin' her. She ain't done nothing to hurt us and we're leavin' her to die out in that shed."

"So, what?" Nick response hastily. "She's probably working for Carver, and even if she isn't, she's still bit man. We both know that a bite means the end of the line."

"I know it's hard to believe, but she said it was a dog –"

"Bullshit."

I shake my head disgusted by our actions. "Nick, we weren't raised like this. We were taught to be kind." I put my elbows on my knees and rub my temples. "What is this world turning us into." Nick rolls his eyes.

Before Nick can respond, Carlos comes out of the kitchen. "House meeting in five minutes!"

I sigh and roll my eyes. "Great," I mutter sarcastically.

Clementine's POV

"Shoot," I hiss, as the once good blade of my pocket knife snaps in half under the pressure of the lock on the trap door under the house. _Dang it, that was my only weapon besides the hammer I used to get out of the shed._

I push on the trap door to see if it opens; it lifts as I push it. _Well, at least I didn't break my blade for nothing._ I toss the broken knife to the side of me and go up into the little closet the trap door leads to.

Once inside, I gently close the trap door. My nerves are all over the place. I stare at the door in front me. Anyone could be behind that door. That would mean "lights out" for me. "Please don't get caught, please don't get caught," I pray quietly. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. _Well, here I go._

I turn the doorknob slowly and crack the door open. Inside the room, is a cozy living area with warm white, dim lighting radiating from the candles placed in various places.

"Good," I think, gratefully. "No one's here."

As I walk through the house, careful not to make the floor creak, I hear soft voices through the thin walls of the cabin. Although I can't hear them clearly, I know the group is talking about me.

Spotting an isolated door behind the green plaid couch, I head straight for it. I put my ear to the door; I hear nothing. Quietly, I turn the doorknob and peek in.

It's a small cubicle with a bed and a desk. I rummage through the desk drawers searching for some supplies. _He's a doctor. He's got to have stuff for stitches._

"What are you doing in here?!" a voice whisper-shouts at me.

I freeze. _Shoot! I forgot to shut the door! How could I be so careless?!_ I put my hands up in surrender and turn around slowly.

Before me stands Luke, his brown eyes wild with surprise. For a minute neither of us says or does anything until Luke hastily turns around and locks the door.

He turns back to me. "Look, you can put your hands down. I ain't gonna hurt ya." I do as I'm told and put my hands down, bringing my hand to my wounded forearm.

"You have to get out of here. If someone finds you…" he trails off.

"I can't just sit in that shed and wait to die, Luke!" I say louder than I should have. Luke looks down at the floor, shaking his head. I take a deep breath.

"Look, all I need is some supplies to stitch up my arm. I know that you guys have it all around here somewhere. All I need from you is to keep quiet about my being in here."

Luke sighs heavily, face still downcast. "Wait here," he commands and he's left the room before I can ask why.

I shrug my shoulders and flop down on the mattress.

On the wall in front of me is an intricate painting of a duck that makes tears spring to my eyes. "Duck," I whisper, my throat starting to sting.

Duck, the first and only person my age that I met after this crap started. At times I wish he was still here and we were team Clementine and Duck again, or "Batgirl and Robin," as he liked to call us.

But then I remember that a boy like him wasn't meant for this world. He's better off with his family up above.

The bedroom door opens and Luke come in with a few things in his hands. In his hands are a scrap of gauze and an apple juice box. _Did he get those for me?_ He opens his mouth to speak, but his face contorts into one of sympathy.

"Are you okay, darlin'? Don't cry."

"Huh?" I put my finger to my cheek and sure enough, it's moist. I chuckle a little.

"Sorry," I say wiping my face. "I didn't realize I was crying."

Luke looks at me, a look of uncertainty on his face, but shakes his head. "Here, I got you a few things." He hands the items he retrieved to me. Our hands brush against each other as I receive the items; the contact makes my skin tingle.

"Oh my gosh." I am dumbfounded by Luke's deed for me, but I am also very confused. "Why are you being so kind to me?" I ask, genuinely curious. "I thought you couldn't do anything to help me. I mean, when you first met me, you threw me on the ground. What changed?"

The chestnut-haired man scratches the back of his head with a frown. "Yeah, sorry about before, I panicked. I guess it's just...I…I just…If you had died because I didn't help you when you needed it, I wouldn't be able to live with that." The corner of his mouth rises. "I guess you could say I had a change of heart."

"I don't know what to say. Thank you so much. I won't forget this." I pocket the supplies. "If you don't mind, I have to scavenge for a few more things."

Luke exhales. "Alright, just don't get caught. I can't help you out any more than I have."

"I'll try my best," I promise my ally sincerely, moving closer to him and looking him dead in the eye. Once again we don't speak for a minute, but this time, I break the silence. "I'd better go." I walk towards the door.

"Uh, yeah, you should. I'll keep 'em busy." I peer out into the hallway and, confirming no one is there, I step out, Luke on my tail. I tiptoe towards the stairs as Luke heads in the direction of the kitchen.

"Hey!" Luke calls in a hushed tone, causing me to whip my head back in response to him. He gives me a small smile. "Good luck, darlin'," the handsome man says with a wink. I raise an eyebrow. _Is he flirting?_

"Thanks. For everything. And don't call me darlin'," I reply.

"You're welcome _darlin'_ ," he says, before heading into the kitchen.

I roll my eyes and proceed up the stairs. _I can't believe he helped me like that. I mean, when we first met he didn't want to touch me with a ten foot pole! Regardless, I won't forget what he's done for me. That is, if I survive the night._

Once on the second floor, I head for one of the rooms to the right of the staircase. Luke is with the rest of them downstairs so this entire floor should be vacant.

But when I open the door, I immediately make direct eye contact with Sarah through the cracked door. _I completely forgot about her!_ She gasps loudly; I must have frightened her.

Before she can say anything, I put my index finger to my lips and hush her. She hesitates, "You're not supposed to be in here." Ignoring her warning, I enter the room. "Hi," I greet her quietly. "Can you please help me?"

Sarah shakes her head. "My dad says I'm not supposed to talk to you."

My eyes flicker to a book resting on her lap. "What are you reading?"

She looks down to her book and back up at me. "It's called _The Gurgles_. It's about trans-dimensional body snatchers."

"Awesome."

"I guess. I'm not really a fan of the sci-fi genre. I guess I'm more of a romance kind of girl."

Her brown eyes look to my blood-stained arm. "What happened to you?"

"A dog bit me," I explain approaching the girl.

"Sounds scary. I bet it hurts."

"It does – really bad. I could die if I don't take care of it."

She hesitates again before speaking to me. "It really wasn't one of them?"

"It really wasn't. All I need I something to clean it up and a needle. Please help me."

"Um… I don't know where a needle is, but I can get you something to clean it with. That's with my dad's medical supplies." Sarah smiles at me. "I'll help you."

Relief and gratitude wash over me. "Thank you."

"I'm Sarah," she introduces herself, although I already knew her name.

"Hi, Sarah. I'm Clementine."

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen. How old are you?"

"I'm sixteen."

I nod and wait for her to get the supplies, but Sarah doesn't make any attempt to move from her position on her bed.

"We're friends," she blurts out excitedly. My eyes widen as I am shocked at her bluntness.

"Right? We can be best friends. I haven't met another girl my age since way before." As she rambles on about why we should be friends, I think about the pros and cons of being Sarah's friend.

If I choose to be her friend, I'll have someone who has my back and someone to talk to, and she'll help me get what I need. The problem at hand is that she might die, because she could get close to me. That seems to be a trend with the people I befriend – they always wind up dead.

But if I choose not to make friends with her, she may not help me.

"Yes," I decide. "We're friends."

"Promise?" she asks. "It's important. Friends have to trust each other no matter what."

 _Okay, this a little childish but I'll go along with it._

"I promise, Sarah."

Next, she holds out her pinky finger. "A pinky swear is forever."

 _How old is this girl again? Okay then…_

I intertwine our pinkies. Sarah claps with joy.

"Um… Sarah. I hate to interrupt this moment, but can you get the supplies?"

Sarah at my request stops cheering. "Sorry, I got excited." I giggle as she searches through a side table drawer.

Sarah returns with a bottle of rubbing alcohol."Sorry, I couldn't find the peroxide. This one is going to hurt really, really, really bad, especially on that bite."

"I'll take what I can get, but yeah. This is going to hurt like hell." I take the bottle. "Thanks Sarah."

"Hey, that's what friends are for. But you've gotta get out of here before my dad finds you in here."

"Okay, see you around."

As I exit the room I give Sarah a small wave, which she returns.

Okay, all I need now is a needle.

There is a room directly across from Sarah's. I open the door and discover the bathroom. I go straight to the medicine cabinet above a sink that is filled with water. I push on it and it pops open.

There's not much inside, but lucky for me, There is a sewing needle sticking out of a little red pin cushion. I snatch the needle from the cushion.

 _Great, I've got everything I need. Now all I have to do is get back to the shed._

Just as I'm about to head out the door I hear a muffled voice. I look around frantically for a place to hide and spot a small linen closet. I open it and shut myself in just as the unknown person opens the bathroom door.

In strolls Rebecca, with her hands on her face. "That man sometimes, I swear," she mumbles and approaches the sink. "I just need to have this baby." The pregnant woman uses some of the water in the sink to splash her face. What a waste of water.

"Please let it be okay," she whispers As she looks at her reflection in the mirror. "And let it be his." My eyes bug out in shock of this revelation at a second possible father. _Talk about drama._

After Rebecca leaves, I grab a towel - so that I don't scream when I stitch my arm up - and head out of the bathroom.

I go down the stairs and exit the cabin through the trapdoor.

* * *

I wiggle through the small opening of the shed and hop to my feet once inside.

Taking out all of the supplies, I set them all on the workbench before me: the rubbing alcohol, the gauze, the apple juice, the towel, the needle, and the fishing wire I found in a tackle box before I escaped the shed.

I carefully roll up the sleeve of my shirt, revealing my bloody arm. It's beginning to fester; I have to hurry.

I put set my forearm at the workbench. I look at the bite, not anticipating what I have to do next. "This is gonna suck," I say, not even trying to psych myself up.

I roll the towel and stuff it in my mouth to muffle my impending screams.

I twist off the cap of the alcohol and hold it above my forearm. _Come on, Clemmy. You got this. Just do it quick and it will be over before you know it._ I squeeze my eyes shut and tip the bottle and the liquid flows out and onto my arm.

The second the alcohol hit my skin, I drop the bottle to the floor and the contents cascade onto the floor and seep into the wooden floor boards. Tears prick my eyes and I scream loudly in agony, but my cries are stifled by the cloth between my teeth.

My crying is short lived as the sting starts to fade and I begin to regain my composure. I drop the towel from my mouth and I grab the apple juice box and take a long sip. The sweet beverage calms me down.

I set it back on the workbench and look over to the needle and thread. I take what seems like the hundredth deep breath today. "Now the fun part."

I pick up the fishing line spool, unwinding the material. I thread the needle and put the towel in my mouth. _Let's get this over with._

Luke's POV

 _I hope Clementine's alright._ I lay on my back in my bed. I can't sleep. I can't stop thinking about her. I don't even know why I care about her so much. I don't even know the girl; I only met her less than 6 hours ago!

I sit up on the bed and toss my legs over the edge. I need some air. I get up and walk out of the cabin. Once on the front porch, I take a seat on the bench, leaning back.

I glance over to the little shed that Clementine is spending the night in. I just hope I did the right thing helping her, trusting her. Hopefully, she doesn't turn out to be one of Bill's minions.

I get up to go inside, but before I can open the door I hear loud shrieks of fear and banging, accompanied by growling coming from the shed. _She's in trouble!_

I rush inside the house and grab my machete. "Everyone get up!" I yell, cupping my hands around my mouth. In seconds, my entire group, except for Sarah, comes running down the stairs. "Luke, what's wrong?" Carlos asks.

"There's somethin' going on in the shed. I think Clementine's in danger. Get your weapons and follow me."

I walk out of the house, not caring if they follow my orders or not. I intend to protect her with or without them.

I jog over to the shed, the noises still traveling through the wooden walls.

I stop in front of the shed; I'm followed by the rest of my people. Unlatching the door lock, I pull the doors open. My eyes bulge out at what I see before me.

"Holy shit."

Clementine's POV

"Holy shit," I hear Luke curse.

I breathe heavy, labored breaths. A walker came in through the hole that I created when I escaped earlier.

Now that I've taken it down, the hammer I found is protruding from it's bludgeoned forehead and an anchor has penetrated through it's torso. Blood is splattered across my face.

"This little lady's tough as nails," Pete remarks. His voice reminds me of the group's presence behind me. My face contorts in anger.

"I am still. NOT. Bitten," I spit out in an irate manner, turning to the group. "I never was. And you left me out here to die."

Luke, Pete, Alvin, and the doctor look away, ashamed of their actions. Rebecca and Nick continue to give me dirty looks.

"You patched yourself up?" Pete asks, shocked when sees my arm.

"Where'd you get that stuff?" Nick questions, approaching me with his rifle.

"Did she steal from us?" Rebecca adds to the list of questions.

I do feel kind of bad for taking from them, but they should've helped me or, at the very least let me go. Instead they locked me up against my will. "You left me no choice."

"You coulda just left," Rebecca snaps.

"Relax Rebecca," Pete says exasperated with her non-stop rudeness. I am too. "All of us would've done the same if we were half as tough as this girl. So just save it."

I look to Pete with a grateful half-smile for his defending me.

"Come inside and I'll take a look at your arm," Carlos says emotionlessly.

He walks away with the rest of the group, except for Luke who stays behind with me.

"Come on," he says, beckoning me to follow him inside the cabin. "Carlos will check you out and I'll fix you somethin' to eat."

I am pretty hungry; the last thing I ate were those beans that Sam and I found, but the deceased dog attacked me before I could really eat any of it. But I have qualms about going with Luke.

"Is it really okay? I mean, your group pretty much hates me. Won't they be mad that you're giving your food with someone you don't know, or trust for that matter?"

"Well I trust ya. That's all that matters. Now come on, before another lurker gets the jump on us."


	7. Just Talking

I sit on a stool in the candle-lit kitchen as Carlos examines my arm. In one corner stands Nick, chewing on his thumb nail furiously. In the other, Luke is pacing back and forth.

"This may hurt a little," Carlos warns and he wraps my arm with gauze, squeezing my wound tight. I hiss in response to the pain, but remain sitting still.

"So, how's she look?" Luke asks the Spanish man next. To me.

Carlos finishes wrapping my bite up. "Well, her suturing skills need some work, but otherwise I'd say should be fine.

Luke steps out of his shadowed corner and into the light. "So wasn't a lurker bite?" Luke questions him, hope in his demeanor.

The doctor shakes his head. "If it was the fever would've set in by now and her temperature would be through the roof."

When he says this, Nick stomps angrily past Luke and out of the room. Is he seriously mad? What is that guy's problem? Luke clearly mad about his reaction, follows him out of the room.

Carlos walks away from me and I lift up my arm looking at his work. It already doesn't hurt as much. I swivel to face him on the stool. "Thank you," I say honestly.

Carlos turns on the sink and dips his hands under the water falling from the faucet. They have water?! "I wish you wouldn't have done what you did," Carlos mumbles.

"I'm sorry, but I was hurt and you weren't helping-"

"Because we considered you a threat, which you were," he says cutting me off. "We put you in that shed out of concern for the safety of our loved ones. And then you escaped and persuaded my daughter to steal from us!"

He cuts off the sink water and shakes his hands, relieving them of water. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, but there's a few things you need to know about my daughter."

Is there something wrong with her? I didn't sense anything wrong, except for the childishness, but that wasn't that serious. "Okay..."

"She isn't like you. You may not get that at initially, but once you're around her for awhile, you'll understand. If she knew what the world is, what it's really like out there, she would... cease to function."

"So in other words you baby her, instead of teaching her to toughen up."

"No, I protect her so that she won't go crazy from all this madness. It will be too much for her to bear." That so stupid! She's gonna die if he keeps treating her like a 10-year old. He turns to me with his eyes closed. "She's my little girl. She's all I have left and I would ask that you stay away from her."

"I'm sorry, but she needs to grow up sometime. What if something happens to you and-"

"YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT SHE NEEDS!" Carlos snaps making me jump.

I don't respond, not wanting to provoke him further.

"Rebecca was worried that you might be working with someone else. That your being here was no accident. I guess we'll find out, but one thing I know for sure-" He walks toward the kitchen door to make his leave. "You are not to be trusted."

He stops in his tracks and turns his head with a glare directed at me. "Stay away from my daughter."

I roll my eyes. These people are so dramatic. They're really starting to piss me off. I need to get out of here as soon as possible. But then my only advocate, Luke strolls in after the overprotective doctor leaves. His presence immediately brightens my mood.

"Hey, darlin', I brought you some food if you're hungry."

I look to him, "Starving. Oh, and stop calling me darlin'. It's weird."

He places a bowl in front of me that appears to contain oatmeal. "Okay then. Would you rather me call you…" he puts his hand to his chin and thinks for a moment, "...bright eyes."

I grimace at the new nickname. "Darlin' it is then," I decide before I dig into the food. As I suspected, the substance in the little glass bowl is indeed oatmeal and I scarf it down in a matter of minutes.

After I take the last bite of my meal, I look up realizing Luke was staring at me. I suddenly feel self-conscious because of my barbaric way of eating. "Sorry, I was really hungry. I haven't eaten anything since…" I hold up my patched-up arm in reference to the mutt that caused this whole incident.

Luke waves my words away with his hands. "No it's fine. I was just wonderin' how you made it this long. I mean, you're definitely no wimp, but you had to have been pretty young when this shit started. Didn't someone look after you?"

I stare at my hands which are fidgeting in my lap and I sigh as I begin to tell Luke my history."I was twelve years old when the walkers came. I was being babysat by Sandra, my childhood babysitter. My parents were out of town at the time, in Savannah, Georgia."

"When Sandra and I saw a news crew get eaten on TV, we went up into my treehouse and we hid out in there. After the first night Sandra went to go look for food, but a little while later I heard her scream. She never came back. I was alone for two days after that."

I dig in my pocket and I feel the frayed edges of one of my most treasured possessions. I pull out the photo of my former mentor and slide it over to Luke.

"This man found me. His name was Lee Everett." A smile spreads across my lips as I think of the man that kept me safe and continues to keep me safe through his teachings.

Luke picks up the photo and examines Lee, squinting. "This man," he starts. "He looks familiar. The name is familiar, too. Was he famous?" I chuckle a little. Sure, if you count convicted senator murderer as famous!

"Not exactly, but you probably saw him on the news a lot. Before the outbreak, he killed a state senator because his wife was cheating with him."

"I remember that story. Life sentence," Luke says. I nod.

"Anyway, on his way to prison he and the cop got into a car accident. His leg was hurt and he was experiencing walkers for the first time. So he came to my house in search of help and an explanation." I smile at what I'm about to say next. "I thought about dropping a hammer on his head, just in case he was up to no good." Luke chuckles in response.

"We started talking on walkie talkies that I had been using to try to find my parents. After that were like this." I cross my middle finger over my index finger. "We were inseparable, a team. He taught me how to shoot. He's the reason I keep my hair short. Despite everything that happened around us we stuck together." Until I fucked it all up. The grim thought pops into my mind making me grimace.

I look up at Luke, who looks intrigued. "If you don't mind me asking," Luke starts, "What happened to him?"

"I got him killed."

Luke's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Um...wow. I…uh," He trails off.

"This man on the other end of my walkie talkie said that he had my parents. Despite Lee telling me that my parents were probably gone, I believed the stranger. When we reached Savannah, Lee told me the town was too overrun for my parents to be alive. I didn't want to believe him, so I left to find my parents and the stranger."

"But the man was already waiting for me outside the mansion we were staying in. He kidnapped me and locked me in a room of the Marsh House, the hotel my parents had been staying in, saying that I was going to be his new love."

"But Lee came to the rescue and saved me from that creep. We escaped the herd outside, but before that I saw my parents as walkers." A tear drops fro my eye but I don't move to wipe it.

"Then Lee passed out so I dragged him into a jewelry store and locked us in. But he had been bitten on his way to save me. So I had to…" I trail off. I don't want to have to live the horrific memory again in my mind. "But he saved me lots of times before that. The last thing he told me was to always keep moving."

"I'm sorry, Clementine," Luke apologizes sincerely before handing me my torn photo back. "I can't imagine all the pain you felt."

We sit in silence for a minute before Luke speaks up. "So, what's your plan, Clementine?"

I shrug my shoulders, "I'm thinking of moving on. I've gotta keep moving."

Luke is visibly saddened by my response, "What? No! You can't leave you just got here."

"I have to, Luke."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to get attatched!"

"What is wrong with that?"

"Because you'll die." Luke is shocked at my response, but doesn't argue. "That's just what happens to people around me, they just drop like flies. At one point I had a group of ten people, now they're all dead, except for me. Hell, even a fucking dog died because I was there."

Luke still doesn't say anything. "Besides your people don't even like me except for Sarah and maybe Pete."

"Well," Luke says, finally talking. "I really think you should stay, at least for the night and then in the morning you can leave, if that's what you want."

"I told you, Luke. Your group-"

"They'll just have to deal with it."

Suddenly Pete walks in through. He looks between me and Luke and raises an eyebrow. "Candlelit dinner?How romantic," Luke and I both scoff and redden at Pete's implication. Pete gives a laugh "Well, I hate to interrupt your date, but I'm out there standing watch and I can't help but notice this place is lit up like a damn beacon in the middle of the woods."

"Yeah, it's just about time to turn in anyways," Luke agrees.

"Yeah, well, get your winks while you can 'cause we're going fishing at first light. A couple of fresh brookies for dinner? Mmm, wouldn't that be nice." It sure would be, if I was staying that long.

Pete looks to me and smiles before leaving the room.

Luke gets up from his seat, but he doesn't leave the room yet. "You can sleep in my room. The one where you got caught," he jokes.

I roll my eyes. "Whatever, but I'll just stay on the couch."

Luke shake his head. "Sorry darlin', but my mama and pops raised me to be a gentleman. And gentlemen do not let ladies sleep on couches when there are beds for them to sleep in."

"Oh, but gentlemen do drop women on their asses when their hurt," I jokingly retort.

Luke rubs the back of his head again. His habit of doing that is starting to grow on me. "Yeah, sorry about that." He stares at me again for a few seconds before sighing and turning around to leave. But there's something I can't help but wonder.

"Luke," I call out before he leaves. He whips back around to look at me.

"Yeah?"

"I still don't get why you care about me so much. Why you've gone out of your way to make me feel comfortable."

Luke doesn't respond immediately, as if he's thinking it over. "Honestly?" I nod my head.

"There's just something about you that makes me want to take care of you. I don't know what it is." I feel butterflies in my stomach as he says this. He wants to take care of me? Why me?

Before I can respond, Luke is out of the door and off to bed, or the couch, I mean.

Then, I see the ass who tried to kill me saunter into the dining room, a dark look etched on his face. "Hey," he greets me with a mumble. I don't respond, crossing my arms and clarifying that I don't want him to speak to me.

"Look, I just wanted to apologize for being a dick out there," He says, sounding genuine. Maybe I'll hear him out. "And for almost blowing your head off. It's just… we had a bad experience once.

"We've all had bad experiences," I interject.

"I know. We took in someone who was bitten once and my mom ended up paying the price for it. I just didn't want history to repeat itself."

I look up at him from my seat; he seems honest enough. I suppose I could forgive him. Just as long as he's not a douchebag anymore.

I finally sigh and speak up. "I get that you were just trying to protect your people. Your methods of doing that may be a little too much, but I get it nonetheless, so I forgive you. Just try not to be an asshole, 'kay?"

Nick scoffs with a small smile, but nods. "Yeah. Fine." And with that, the raven haired man turns on his heel and exits the room.

I get up and wash my empty bowl in the sink before blowing out all the candles and exiting the room.

Now that I'm back in the living room, I see Luke sleeping peacefully on the couch. He must have been so tired. I know I am. The blanket he must have had covering him must have fallen off because it now lies in a plaid heap on the floor.

I pick up the large blanket and drape it over his body. Why does he care about me? I'm not worth it. I'll only get him killed…

"What do you think you're doing?" I look up to see Rebecca standing at the bottom of the stairs with her arms folded over her large round belly and a scowl on her face. What is she talking about?

That's when I realize the feel of skin underneath my fingers. I had stroking Luke's face and I didn't even realize! I quickly snatch my hand away, mentally berating myself; luckily Luke hadn't woken up to see me do that.

"Nothing, I-" but I'm cut off before making my excuse.

"Don't get attached, girl," Rebecca intercedes, coldly. "I want you gone. Now."

I take a deep breath. "Luke invited me to stay the night," I explain, trying not to lose my temper. Hitting a pregnant woman is not socially acceptable, even in the apocalypse.

"Well, that's not how we do things around here. So I don't really give a fuck what Luke said. Get out," She snaps.

At this point I'm so sick of her bullshit, so I decide to say something to shut her up. "Whose baby it?" I ask feigning innocence.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. If it's not Alvin's, who's is it?"

Rebecca approaches me and lowers her voice. "You shut your fucking mouth," she whispers.

"No, you shut yours, or everyone here will know your little secret." Rebecca just stands there with her mouth open as if she has a comeback, but nothing comes out. Checkmate. I didn't want to threaten her, but I wasn't gonna let her trample all over me.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed. I'm staying the night. If you leave me alone, I will leave in the morning, you'll never have to see me again, and know one will ever find out about you. Got it?"

Rebecca shakes her head before mumbling, "I knew you were going to be a fucking problem."

"Glad we understand each other," I smile sarcastically before heading to Luke's room.

I walk in the small room and lay on the bed face up. I soon drift off to sleep, and into a dream.

 _I walk through the forest, rain dribbling down my face. As I walk, I realize the rain is starting to become red in color and the air starts to smell of the metallic bloody stench._

 _I look up to the sky and above me I see them. The bodies. There are various bodies of the people I've run into, mutilated, yet recognizable. Mom, Dad, Lee, Omid, and so many others. The blood is falling from their wounded corpses._

 _"It's all your fault, Clementine," a voice, my own voice, is repeating to me._

 _"No. No, it's not," I croak, but the disembodied version of myself ignores me, still repeating the phrase. "It's all your fault."_

 _I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut, trying not to get the blood in my eyes and mouth. I dart forward, but the more I run, the more blood falls. Finally I run into something and I bounce off of it and onto the ground._

 _I open my eyes and in front of me is a person hanging from a tree by a rope struggling to escape death: Luke. I try to get up from the ground to save him, but I am unable to get up; my legs won't move. As Luke chokes to death the pouring blood chokes me and I can't breathe. I can't breathe…_

I gasp loudly trying to get as much air into my lungs as I can. My face is wet from tears that have fallen in my sleep. It was just a dream. It was just a dream.

But I can't help but think that dream was a warning. A warning to get out before I add to the death rolodex in my head.

I don't want anyone else to die. I won't let any of these people grow on me. I have to go.


	8. Stay

**I do not own _The Walking Dead_.**

* * *

Luke POV

My eyes gradually open to the creaks of footsteps on the wooden floors resounding in my ears. My heart clenches and my body tenses up at the noise. I silently pray that who or whatever is in the room is not a scavenger, or someone else dangerous that will hurt my people.

Slowly, I raise up my torso from the couch. I stifle a groan as my back is aching from the uncomfortable couch springs and thin cushions.

In a corner of the room, I spot a dark figure crouching and I hear something rustling. Oh God, please don't be a psycho.

I get up from the couch, carefully, trying not to make noise that will alert the intruder. I tiptoe quietly to the figure and pull my machete out of its sheath on my back.

I reach out to the person spinning them around by their shoulder and shove them forcefully against the wall, pinning their arms with one hand and pointing the machete towards their stomach. "Look, I don't wanna hurt-"

A quick knee slams me in my groin and I hold my area in excruciating pain, dropping my machete in the process. I squeeze my eyes shut and fall on my knees to the ground. "Fuckin' hell!" I hiss.

"Luke?" A soft voice addresses me. I open my eyes to find a beautiful face with even more beautiful golden eyes lit up by a small lighter. "Clementine?"

She places a small hand on my arm"Oh my gosh, are you okay?" she asks. No, you just kneed me in the fuckin' balls! "I'll be fine. I'm never having children, though." She has a brief small smile, but it quickly fades along with fire from her lighter. "I'm sorry I attacked you, darlin'. I thought you were an intruder."

"It's fine. I thought you gonna try to hurt me. But it looks like we're even," Clementine responds nodding her head in the direction of my probably bruised balls.

"What were you doing up anyway?" I ask curious as to why Clementine was up. She needs rest after a day like today. Or yesterday as I am certain it's early in the morning despite the starry night sky.

But the girl doesn't respond. Instead she turns around and picks up a black backpack. Wait, that's our medicine and food bag! But before I try to get it back, I notice she has dumped all of the previous contents on the floor and placed them into a neat pile.

As if she read my mind, Clementine speaks. "I just needed the bag. The only other thing I needed was this." From her back pocket she pulls out a kitchen knife, showing it to me.

"I'm going now," she says not looking at her shoes.

I'm kinda upset that she was going to leave without saying goodbye. I know we only met recently, but we have something between us that I can't explain. I know she senses it too or she wouldn't be standing here with the look of guilt on her lowered face.

"You know, you don't have to go," I say, wanting badly for her to stay. "We can protect you. We can be your family."

Clementine scoffs and rolls her eyes. "First of all, I don't need your protection. That dog bite was a fluke. You caught me on an off day. I can take care of myself." But her expression becomes solemn. "I will not to be apart of your 'family'. I won't do that to you or your people." She looks me dead in the eye before turning on her heel to head out of the door.

I go after her and grab her wrist making her face me. She yanks her tiny wrist from my hand. Her nostrils are flaring and I can see tears forming in her eyes, sparkling in the moonlight, threatening to fall down her cheeks.

"Clementine, I want you to stay here. I'm not gonna lie to you. Times will get hard. But you've made me happier ever since I saved you from that walker." I'd tell her I like her too, but I don't want to scare her away more. "Please stay."

"What part of 'I can't' don't you understand?!" Clementine snaps. "If I stay, you die. They all die. It's my curse." Clementine takes a deep breath, calming herself. "I'd rather unselfishly keep you alive, than selfishly kill you."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. Has she really been through so much that she's afraid to be with people? God, I can't imagine.

"Clementine you are not cursed." She doesn't look convinced, though.

I take her grubby hands in my own larger ones rubbing her skin with my thumbs. "I'll make you a promise, Clementine," I say, confidently. "I won't leave you. No matter what. I really can't speak for the others. But if you stay, I promise, I won't go dying on you."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," she says coldly. She's right, I can't make a promise like that. Not these days. I grab her shoulders and look her in the eyes.

"Fine. I'll make you a deal. If you stay, I will do everything in _my_ power to stay alive and stay with you, as long as you do everything in _your_ power to stay alive and stay with me - with us. We can have each others' backs."

I spit on my hand and hold it out to her to shake it. "Deal?" She scrunches her nose and raises a skeptical eyebrow at my gesture. "What are you doing?" she asks.

"You're supposed to spit on your own hand and shake my hand," I explain.

"Umm…Why?"

"That is how you make a pact official, after all.

"I know we've all had to do some gross things in this world, but I don't think this one is necessary. Can't we just pinky promise?"

"So you do promise?"

She looks away from me and sighs. "I guess, as long as I don't have to touch your spit-coated palm." Clementine holds up a pinky.

"Deal." I wipe my saliva from my hand and return the pinky promise.

"You know, I'm gonna hold you to this," she says.

"I would expect nothing less, darlin'."

Clementine stands awkwardly, twiddling her thumbs, "So, what now?"

I shrug. "I guess we go to bed. Although I'm not too tired anymore"

"Yeah, me neither."'

"So do you want to talk? We don't have to talk about the present. We can talk about the past. I mean, before the lurkers."

Clem nods in agreement and we end up sitting on the couch for hours just talking about anything and everything and laughing until we finally fall asleep.

* * *

 **Sorry for the short chapter. I've been having a rough time lately in my life so this was all I could get out. Better and longer chapter next time. Review please! Also don't forget to check out my other story _Freshman_. THANKS!**


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